Beyond
by misscam
Summary: This isn't just having sex with Mary Margaret. Not only sleeping with Snow White either. This is both. This is beyond. [Snow/Charming]


Beyond  
by misscam

Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my words.

Author's Note: Set some undetermined time post-curse beyond 2x03, reuniting Snow and Charming. It assumes David and Mary Margaret did actually sleep together at some point, which is of course open to debate.

II

This is not how Mary Margaret kissed, the part of him that is David remembers. Oh, there was still need in it, that unexplainable need that David and Mary Margaret couldn't quite understand but Snow and Charming knows not even a curse couldn't take away. Mary Margaret did kiss David with need and want and lips tugging at lips and soft moans, but she was always holding back a little. As if she couldn't quite allow herself to be happy. As if she couldn't quite allow herself _him_, not truly.

Snow White never did hold back. From the first time she kissed him, really kissed him with her arrow still buried in his shoulder to the night she first came to him with bright, promising eyes and eager hands, she always poured her heart into it and demanded his right back.

And now, now she is kissing him again with both need and heart, legs around his waist as he lowers her to the bed and she takes him right down with her. He isn't sure exactly how they got as far as the bed, with him pressing her up against the door almost the moment Emma had left with Henry. He has a faint memory of lifting her up at some point, her fingers clutching his shirt as she slated her mouth and kissed him, but it's a bit lost in the deluge of sensations and memories and want, so much want it's almost desperate.

Perhaps it is a bit desperate. David and Mary Margaret hasn't slept together for months. Snow and Charming hasn't slept together for _years _and she makes a frustrated noise as he frees himself of the kiss to shed the leather jacket he's grown so fond of wearing. (Not David's style at all. That's the point.) He doesn't have time to do more as she pops herself up on her elbows to kiss him again, her teeth scraping against his lower lip.

Right. This isn't just having sex with Mary Margaret. Not only sleeping with Snow White either. This is both. This is beyond.

He lowers her down again, realising they're sideways across the bed and just not caring. Her fingers are working on the buttons of his shirt, he realises, caressing the skin of his chest as they move down. His own hands move to her waist, tracing the curve of her ass as she puts one leg between his and angles herself even closer. Just cloth and skin between them, and cloth is one thing too many.

He pushes her arms above her head, lowering his head to kiss exposed skin as he pulls at her blouse. Easier than the lace and corsets of their land, he has to admit, though perhaps not the ball gowns he got very good at getting her out of. She arches a little as he reaches the skin of her breasts the bra doesn't cover, and he lets his mouth linger there while his fingers work to unhook her bra.

(David does remember how to do that fortunately, courtesy of false memories of teenage-awkward-make-outs. Charming only ever knew Snow and what she taught him and felt that knowledge enough.)

She braids her fingers through his hair when he lifts her up a little, removing her bra and covering one breast with his mouth, the other his hand. He can feel her nipples harden and hear her breath grow a little ragged and impatient; this all familiar and yet not quite.

Her long hair doesn't fall around his face as she rolls him over to straddle him, after all. Her eyes aren't as bright and young as Snow's as she looks at him, her hand lingering at his chest. He isn't quite the Prince Charming of those days either, when he had her and the future promise of family and could not, would not envision losing them.

Doesn't have to now. He knows now, as she does, and she leans down to kiss him tenderly, carefully, as if he could break and be lost to her. As Mary Margaret would kiss him sometimes too, as if knowing he was lost to her.

Was. Was and isn't now, won't be ever again if he can prevent it.

He leans into the softness of her kiss for a moment, a long heartbeat, and then they seem to want to deepen it at the same time with equal fervor, tongues colliding and almost breathing into each other.

Her hands pull at the zipper of his jeans, he's already worked hers to push a hand inside. Her underwear is soft and cotton and clings to her skin; she bucks against him as he moves his fingers against it. She gets her own though, as she always does, her hand managing to slip inside his underwear and stroke him lightly.

He makes a noise into the kiss he can't quite recognise as his, but it makes Snow smile against his lips. He loves her smile. He loves her, loves her impatience and sadness and eager fingers and soft moans and Snow and Mary Margaret and the noise she makes as they finally manage to remove enough clothing between them for him to thrust into her. He holds still for a moment, waiting for her body to adjust slightly to the sensation again, familiar and yet not, but she pulls him into a sloppy kiss and moves against him, no patience at all.

He gets a bit frantic after that, and it's almost like the first time again, both Snow and Charming and David and Mary Margaret and so much need it was impossible to be patient. Most times after were more leisurely explorations and pleasure, but now it feels almost impossible to take too much time when time has taken so much from them.

Maybe they'll learn to trust having time again. Maybe there is a happily ever after where he can touch her and not feel like memorizing it in case he won't get to again for a long time, can kiss her and always be certain it won't be the last time, sleep with her and not be afraid it may have to last them yet another separation.

Maybe; for now their hands link as their bodies have and it's just him and her and too much time to make up for.

II

Neither fall asleep after, merely covering themselves in enough quilt not to be cold. But not sleeping. Snow sometimes did in their land when they were fighting to regain the kingdom, knowing another battle could face them in the morning; David did a few times as if the darkness offered more answers than the confusion that was his living life.

But then, they're neither just those two people any more. Maybe that's not entirely a bad thing either. It may help them to navigate this new world, as he has tried to with Charming's confidence and David's knowledge, moving beyond the limitations of both of them.

Snow breathes softly as she rests her head on his chest, tracing faint and undecipherable patterns across his skin with a finger. He doesn't ask her what she's thinking about; he knows. Their daughter. Their grandson. Their family and all the dangers still ahead that may still take them from each other.

Still, they've always found each other again. Their daughter found them too, and even when they tried not to look for each other as David and Mary Margaret they still found each other.

It makes him think they belong to each other, a possessive thought but one he's come to harbour anyway; it anchors him. They may be facing two worlds, two set of memories, two names, but she is still his and he is hers and it's their daughter, their grandson, their family. Theirs.

The thought makes him tilt his head slightly and kiss her forehead, a lingering touch until she lifts her head and kisses him; kisses him with the same possession he feels.

Yes, he thinks. This is who they are beyond everything else, beyond Storybrooke and the Enchanted Forest, beyond Charming and Snow and David and Mary Margaret. They're each other's. Beyond everything else, they will always be.

Yes, he thinks again, and kisses her back until they're both just as impatient again - as it turns out, they do have some time; all the way to the sunrise and beyond.

FIN


End file.
